And Had I Made You Queen
by Classically Cliche
Summary: If you had told me that you wanted a happy ending, I wouldn't have promised you the universe. 30themes with L-elf/Liselotte - heavily speculative with spoilers and angst abound.
1. fingers don't fail me now

So I finished marathoning Valvrave only to conclude that there was a dire lack of Liselotte and tragedy foreshadowing like _woah_ for, um, everyone. This smattering of disjointed oneshots seeks to address the former problem. Unfortunately, angst has its ways of seeping in. Please watch out for spoilers, speculation, alternative interpretations, alternative timelines/universes, smut, violence, underage, and (knowing my kinks) probably incest and noncon. Planning to update daily and not going to bother giving L11 a real name because it'll probably be revealed (along with everyone else's death) in Season 2.

Hope you enjoy nonetheless!

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And Had I Made You Queen  
30themes featuring L11 (L-Elf) and Liselotte

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* * *

This is not the first time he's been shot. The pain is a sharp and constant stab to the back of his head and with each step, a niggling little voice sing-songs: 'You're going to die, you're going to die, you pathetic little boy, you're going to die'. He'd laugh it off like usual if the entirety of his strength wasn't being spent on standing upright - and if it wasn't _right_.

Because for once, that nagging voice foretells the truth. While it's not an immediately fatal wound, he's come too far out to go back.

_Let this be a nightmare,_ he begs, _Let me wake up and try again._

It's instinct; it's second-nature; it's the most unnecessary series of motions and still, he gingerly pulls out that lone photograph. His handwriting has smudged and her expression is blurred and it's been ten years since he's last seen her and -

Like a lifeline, he clutches onto the bloodstained picture, taking one step after another in the right direction.

He is so close, he knows. So so _so_ close.

The thing is, like that voice, the rest of his brain is functioning perfectly well. He's already deduced where the plan went awry and how much time he has until passing out from blood loss. He knows exactly which arteries were hit and how long it would take for even the most amateur of field surgeons to patch him back together. This knowledge offers no aid and little comfort and he wastes some more time leaning against the palace wall trying to catch his breath.

He has not seen her in a decade, but it does not mean he has not kept tabs on her whereabouts. The ever-paranoid palace guards - usurpers, the lot of them - enjoy keeping her confined to one place. As far as the records show, she's been in the same room for five years.

Security is lax, as he had predicted. Most of the guards were searching the nearby grounds for intruders. The bloodloss is causing him to feel nimble, to feel _happy_, and he missteps the first ledge as a result. He tumbles to the ground and barely remembers to keep from screaming. Years of militant conditioning have made their mark and he lands on his feet, a soundless mistake save for the dripping of blood.

The second try is met with more success: he manages to vault onto the first ledge and scrabble (well, hobble) his way to the second. A bloody trail is left in his wake and he fights back the urge to laugh. This time after all, the blood _is_ his own.

It turns out the floorplans of the palace weren't entirely accurate as there is a good meter of space between the walls of the second floor and the third.

He makes the leap of faith, grabbing onto the criss-crossed bars of the window and - just - for a moment - hangs.

Deep breaths in, deep breaths out, he urges himself.

This will be their first meeting in ten years. He's run through dozens - no, hundreds - of possible conversations and still doesn't know what he wants to hear most. The light-hearted buzzing overwhelms him for a second and his right hand slips. He bites the inside of his cheek yet again, concentrating on that laughable amount of pain, before grabbing on with his right hand.

Between his fingers the bars are sturdy. He is confident that they can hold his weight.

It's too late for him however, he realizes when he cannot pull himself up.

There's the rattle of doors, the stomping of feet, and the click of loaded chambers.

_Work, work, work,_ he chants, hysteria being overwhelmed by numbness.

"There he is!" someone shouts. For a split second, he's blinded by a flash of light, and an unknown strength surges back into his arms. Desperately, _triumphantly_, he pulls himself up to look through her window.

This is what ten years of separation culminate in: point-blank shots through his skull and a long-abandoned room.

The truth doesn't even hurt, he realizes, as he had been expecting this all along.

* * *

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/01. fingers don't fail me now


	2. special breed of crybaby

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And Had I Made You Queen  
30themes featuring L11 (L-Elf) and Liselotte

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* * *

With the clump of pink strands clutched between his fingers - the childish promise of half a woman's life - the guards carefully escort him away. They have the sense of mind to walk out of sight before shoving him to the ground. He's seen it coming a mile away (curses himself for letting the little girl get the best of him) and does his best to defend against the blows.

"What are you doing?!" someone demands, and the soldier grudgingly removes his foot. "Get up, get up," the princess urges, pulling him to his feet. "And guards, what about you?" she demands, hands on her hips, "I _told_ you I gave him half my life, and you _said_ you would pardon him, right?"

"But Princess..."

She sniffles. The guards blanch.

The boy blanches too. He doesn't know what royalty is supposed to do, but he knows they're meant to _cry_. And cry the girl does, big fat teardrops dripping down the sides of her cheeks.

"Th-there, there..." the chief guard tries, shouldering his bayonet to gingerly pat her head.

"I'm the princess, right? I'm still a princess, right?" the girl chokes out between hiccups. A slightly hysterical chorus of 'yes you are' and 'but of course' rings throughout the soldiers. "Th-the-then... why won't anyone _listen_ to me?!" she sinks to the snow, hugging her knees.

He catches the hesitation in their eyes and takes a step forward. His first attempt might've failed, but now that a second chance has fallen into his lap...

"If that is what the princess desires," the chief guard relents, tossing his weaponry to the second in command before shouldering both girl and boy.

"Diederich!" the girl cheers, throwing one arm around his neck.

"Your majesty...!"

"It's okay now," she reassures the boy as one of the other soldiers - the man who had pushed him to the ground - produces a hankerchief to wipe away the snot and spit. "You can come back with me. There's lot of good food and fun games!"

He catches a glimpse of the lines of people waiting to be sent to their deaths and forces his eyes shut. And to think that his family... no, his entire _neighborhood_... no, he doesn't want to think about it.

The princess, for her part, pays him no heed, prattling on and on and on. He stops listening sometime when she starts listing names, and her voice soon blends into the background.

Later, he'll learn that these soldiers were the last of the original royal guard. That they had pledged loyalty to the Kaiser and the Kaiser alone. That they had been sent on a suicide mission against a full fleet of ARUS ships with no survivors. That their death signalled the end of her limited freedom. Later, he'll be the one drying her tears and giving unnecessary concessions and making promises he can't keep.

But for now, he observes the uniform, tone, and stride of the soldiers, carefully filing their movements away for a later escape. For now, he _knows_ he's going to outlive them - especially the one that hit him with the barrel of the gun - and thrills at the thought of doing so.

He's pulled out of his thoughts by a sticky silk sleeve swiping the edges of his face. He opens his eyes and blinks repeatedly, surprised that he'd been crying. Then the guard sets the two of them down in front of the palace gates and he receives a stern look.

She diverts his attention yet again, taking his free hand in both of hers and squeezing tight.

"Don't cry," she whispers, pressing their foreheads together (to the guards' consternation). "Give me half your sadness and you won't cry."

He wrinkles his nose and steps out of the pseudo-embrace, opening his mouth to speak.

"Orphan," the chief guard growls, "You would do well to mind your tongue."

"He's an orphan too?" the princess asks, eyes widening and mouth forming a little 'o'.

Of all things, the guard flushes, stuttering out some excuse.

"I'm sorry," she wholeheartedly tells him, letting go of his hand and tugging at her fallen hair. "Mother also told me that a life is a heavy burden to bear."

"So you'll letting him go, princess?"

"No!" she shrills, stomping her foot. "Diederich, you _told_ me that I was supposed to live on for Mother and Father! Isn't he doing the same?"

The guard stammers out more excuses.

"I'm sorry," the princess repeats, pulling with more force, "I shouldn't have burdened you with more life."

"Your Majesty...!"

"You already gave it to me," the boy retorts, maintaining his grip.

"But Diederich _said_!"

"Boy..."

And through the ensuing tumble of limbs and voices for the lock of hair, the boy manages to hold on to the gift of half a life.

That is, until the princess takes out the second hairpin and steps towards him.

"Wh-what are you - " he manages to get out before she chops off a chunk of his hair.

"There!" she triumphantly declares, swiping their wet cheeks with the back of her hand. "Half my life for half of your life!"

She grins so proudly, so widely, and so _stupidly_ that he cannot help but chuckle.

"Now we'll never cry again!" she promises.

* * *

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/02. special breed of crybaby


	3. my brother's secret

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And Had I Made You Queen  
30themes featuring L11 (L-Elf) and Liselotte

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* * *

Her older brother brings her a bloodied uniform in the middle of the night.

She knows then, that he hadn't survived the mission.

She runs to him and cries into his shoulder and he lets her, even though it's been years since they've exchanged anything more than pleasantries.

The crown prince who has lost his name offers her no excuses. He spares her the sordid details of the boy's last moments. He also does not apologize.

"You expected this," he says. The gentle accusation fails to stop her tears.

"I lost my right-hand man," he tries. This too, does not work.

"Don't kid yourself Lotte," he sighs, running his finger through her hair and settling for the timeless defense of tough sibling love. "You had like, what, three whole conversations with him? That's not love."

She mumbles something.

"Don't fret," he drawls, "It's not as if the goalpost has changed."

_It's not as if anything has changed_, she hears. She pushes him away and he falls back in surprise, resting on his haunches and looking up at his little sister.

"What was that for?" he irritably demands. She kicks him with her bare foot. "Ow! Hey, I've had a really shitty week, don't make it worse."

"Are you going to go too?"

A-drei frowns, not trusting his ears.

"What?"

"Are you going to go too?" Liselotte repeats, a little louder this time.

"What? No," he snorts, crossing his arms. "I'm not dying until I take back what's mine."

"But what if you die too?"

"I'm not going to die," he grates. "I'm not stupid enough to volunteer for suicide missions, for one."

Those aren't his words, he realizes belatedly.

Liselotte chokes on her tears and bites down what could've been a laugh.

"That's what he said too."

"Well what do you _think_ I'm going to say?!" A-drei explodes, "That I'll resign from the garrison and come back and live like a caged beast?"

"It's better than being dead!"

"No it's not!" he spits, climbing to his feet and towering above her, "I don't know how you stand it in here Liselotte, all those fucking _filthy_ looks."

"It's better than being dead."

"You're being childish," her older brother snarls, "In fact, next time... next time, I'll send someone else to tell you what happened. Q-vier, maybe." He punctuates his promise by dumping the uniform, dagger, and tattered photograph at her feet and his left bangs fall out of place for a moment.

She sees the familiar eye and falls to her knees, cradling the comparatively-clean remains to her chest and sobbing anew.

"Oh come _on_!" her brother exasperates.

The grandfather clock ticks on and on. He counts five whole minutes before moving to the door. But, of course, his sister would take the moment to call him back.

She mumbles something else he cannot make out.

"If you won't talk clearly, I'm leaving."

More mumbling.

"Three... two... okay, sweet dreams."

"Why did he have to die?"

His hand slips off the knob and he laughs.

"This is a war. People die."

"But why did _he_ have to die?" she petulantly demands, fingers still clutched about that tear-stained photograph.

His nostrils flare and he exhales slowly. Very slowly.

"_Because._"

"But _why_?"

"I don't know why!" he hisses. "You want answers? Look around you! He was killed for the same reason our parents were killed. For the same reason you've been locked up for longer than you remember. For the same reason I was sent to that hellish training camp. This world... no, this whole goddamn universe... it exists to laugh at our suffering!"

She recoils as if he had slapped her and he has the decency to look ashamed.

"I'm sorry Lotte," he grinds out, "It's been a long day and there'll be hearings tomorrow and I'm not... I'm not in the mood to think about this."

_And I don't think I'll ever be._

The princess holds her tongue.

"Don't listen to me complain too much," he adds, "It's part and parcel of being royalty, you know? All that privilege and power must come with a check or two."

She says nothing and he takes it as his cue to leave the room.

For the longest time, Princess Liselotte of the Dorssian Military Pact Federation stares at the scattered momentos in her arms. So, she thinks, fingers clenched about the uniform, this was all that remained of the seven-year-old boy of her dreams.

"I didn't want any of that," she whispers, resting her cheek against the bloodied cloth.

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Her brother does end up taking back his throne. He has her released in-time for his official coronation ceremony and she is given the balcony seat with the best view of the festivities.

All of Dorssia celebrates, for him, for them, for the revival of the old ways.

He is a surprisingly good ruler.

_You know what they say about men with different colored eyes,_ the ministers whisper, _one eye in the past and one eye in the future._

He never justifies it though, and she never asks him to.

He does not, however, apologize, and for that, she never quite forgives him.

* * *

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/03. my brother's secret


	4. a heavy-hearted happiness

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And Had I Made You Queen

30themes featuring L11 (L-Elf) and Liselotte

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* * *

"Princess," he calls, leaping out of the testament to human endeavor, "Your brother has died in the war. You are now Kaiserin."

She takes his hand because he offers her no other options and is not surprised to find it ice cold. He pulls her close, into a mockery of an embrace, and she lets him do this too.

'What did you do to my brother,' she does not ask. Because she does not ask, he does not tell her.

(He had no plans to tell her the truth.)

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"What's your name?" she asks, and his breath catches.

"L-elf, your majesty," he quietly (quickly) replies, kneeling courteously.

There's a flicker of something in the princess' eyes, and then it's gone.

"My brother - he had a name like yours," she finally says.

"Did he, your majesty?" the captain asks.

(And then he chokes on his heart.)

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It hurts to know that she has forgotten him. That these ten years apart have either erased or covered over her memories of their short time together.

Still, the kaiserin never bothers to ask his identity, so he'd like to believe (he _needs_ to believe) that some part of her still remembers.

But a debt is a debt, regardless of her acknowledging its existence, and in return for the life she shared with him, he gives her back an empire.

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Liselotte never forgets this, that he is the one who placed the crown over her head; he is the one who placed her on the throne.

At first, she thinks he'll be another magistrate, someone trying to stage a coup through her. She waits for the assassination, waits for the inevitable toll of bells, waits to be led back into that isolated room. But weeks fly by and nothing happens and she realizes that the young man might have been speaking the truth.

She tries to discover his angle then - as he is human too and all humans have wants. Cain has taught her well in that respect, though he was only her tutor for a few months.

He doesn't ask for anything though, and only gives advice when she expressly requests it. Most of the time, she listens to petitions. Revise this law, change this decree, unblock this trading route, help this group of people.

Sometimes, she finds the words trapped in her throat, a delayed shock taking hold. _I'm free,_ she needs to hold back from screaming, _I'm no longer trapped in that wretched tower._

Most of the time however, she finds it very hard to care.

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He admits, the extent of _her_ suffering had never occurred to him. Yes, most of her family was slaughtered before her and she was a group of the systematically disenfranchised old reign, but she had been kept safe in the north wing for the whole of the war. It had been him - him and her older brother, that is - fighting the actual battles.

He wakes one night to bloodcurdling scream. After dashing down the hallway separating their rooms and shoving aside the pair of well-meaning guards, he manages to force her eyes open. She's awake and alive, but somehow - not entirely _there_. She looks around wildly, gasping and panting, before her eyes roll to the back of her head and she passes out.

He brings her close and cradles her then, as he's wanted to do for so long (as he's wanted her to do for him for so long), propriety be damned. The guards pull back as the years have no made his temperament any milder, and he breathes in the sweet smell of _her_.

The strap of her nightgown slips just a bit and right as he's about to push it back up, he catches the tip of a scar.

Cold blood rushes through him as he slowly, carefully, calmly, pulls the nightgown further down. Liselotte wakes up at some point, eyes widening first with surprise and then with something akin to terror.

"What are you - "

"Who did this," he murmurs, voice hardly breaking a whisper. From her chest to her waist (this is as far as L-elf is willing to look), her skin is marred with scars. Most are pale, but a couple hint towards second-degree burns.

The kaiserin only stares, mouth moving to voice syllableless names. Finally, she sits up and scoots back, pulling on the nightgown.

L-elf looks away.

"I'm sorry, your majesty," he says.

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Liselotte doesn't understand him, doesn't understand him the slightest.

He is around her age, yet evidently not from any noble family. He is addressed as 'Captain' and the guards tend to tiptoe around his presence. He refuses any and all gifts and eats the sparsest of meals, only ever dining with her at formal events.

Once, she asks if he'd like to have dinner with her. He politely declines in-favor of revising the meeting schedule and she is left feeling like a told-off child.

In the face of his not wanting anything, he strives to be... well, she can't quite phrase it. One minute he's writing up the minutes, the next minute he's barking orders for insufficient palace security, and the night after he's pulling her out of another nightmare.

"I'm going to fall in love with you at this rate," she honestly tells him when he stops her fall from the snow-covered pine tree.

L-elf flushes a deep and beautiful red. He does not, however, let her go.

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The Dorssian kaiserin and the Dorssian princess share the same playful nature, L-elf realizes.

"It's not proper," he initially protests, because his heart is still captured by her past self.

She pouts, but only for a moment, before taking her crown and placing it on his head.

"There," she says, and closes the distance between them.

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"Do you want to go?" she asks him when they're lounging about after an especially egregious petition. The nerve of certain intergalactic corporations, she thought.

"Where?" he asks, closing his eyes as she tangles her fingers in his hair.

"Somewhere else," she shrugs. "The empire is much more stable now."

"It is."

"...You were a friend of my brother's right?"

"In a way," L-elf admits, eyes fluttering open. He doesn't want to think about how A-drei had died.

"And he asked you to do all this, right?" Liselotte continues.

"In... in a way," he repeats.

"Well I've offered you everything I can think of," the kaiserin sighs, throwing her hands up, "And you've declined them all!"

L-elf says nothing.

"Isn't there _something_ you want?" she asks, tilting her head to look him in the eye.

He purses his lips and thinks of how she had fought tooth and nail to retain some semblance of identity.

"No," he lies, closing his eyes once again. "You are alive and safe. There is nothing more I want."

.

"I love you," she says to him.

"I love you," he says to her.

(And, in a way, it is enough.)

* * *

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/04. a heavy-hearted happiness


	5. those hairclips are tempting me

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And Had I Made You Queen  
30themes featuring L11 (L-Elf) and Liselotte

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* * *

"Doctor Schulte is throwing a party tonight," Liselotte announces when L-elf enters her beaudoir.

"Why tell me?" he asks, raising an eyebrow.

"Because you're going to be my partner, of course."

"No I'm not," he retorts. "You know I hate dancing."

"No you don't. You're just bad at dancing."

The twenty-year-old Commander refuses to dignify that with a comment. He makes a face instead.

"Don't frown like that. I'm a terrible dancer too."

"Mm."

"It's really a pity. Mother was a good dancer and Father was a good dancer. But _I_ was born with two left feet."

"A-drei was a good dancer," L-elf muses.

"Yes, well... this is a high-level party," Liselotte sniffs, "_Lieutenants_ aren't allowed."

"Still bitter about that eye, I see?"

"Of course I am," she replies, turning from the mirror to face him. "In fact, I don't know why you're not."

"I took out his eye," L-elf shrugs.

"But you were possessed." She frowns then, remembering the brown-haired boy's odd kindness.

"It doesn't change the fact that I took out his eye." He smiles sardonically, tacking on: "You know the first law. An eye for an eye."

The princess-come-queen huffs a bit. "I know you think I'm being harsh on him, but he _is_ my little brother."

"Only by a couple seconds."

"Yes, and that's why I'm queen and he's not."

"A-drei would've made a terrible queen."

"Even though he's a much better dancer?" she jokes, fussing with her long pink hair.

"Ruling isn't all pretense."

"And thank goodness for that!" Liselotte sighs, struggling with a particularly stubborn tangle. "Drat. Call in one of the hairdressers, will you?"

"Let me," L-elf says instead, sidling up behind her and taking two fistfuls of hair.

She pauses as his admittedly deft fingers fumble with the same tangle.

"Uh... L-elf..." it takes some effort to keep from wincing.

"Shhh," he shushes, tugging the comb from her fingers, "I know what I'm doing."

She humors him then, keeping quiet and stock-still while he brushed, combed, and braided. Or, well, attempted to. Unfortunately, the nuances of hair arrangement were lost on L-elf, in no small part due to his own locks, kept at a perpetually-manageable length.

"I look terrible," Liselotte sniggers.

"It's not that bad," the dear boy insists.

"Except it is!" she laughs, pulling out the one, two, three, four, five, six... _seven_ hairbands and shaking her head, "If you wanted to learn, I'm sure Wilhelmina will be happy to teach you!"

He crosses his arms and returns to sitting on the chaise. Sitting mind you, not lounging.

Liselotte sighs. A quick glance at the clock reveals too much time. Still, better early than late. She styles her hair in a series of simple braids, two locks in the back and two braids in the front. The head of the wardrobe has settled for a simple dress this time around; there was no need to complicate matters.

After she's finished, she turns back to L-elf, smiling.

He frowns though.

"What's wrong?" She asks and he gets up and walks towards her, gently turning her back to facing the mirror.

"The back..." he starts, gently undoing and regrouping said section of hair. "It's not even."

"Oh," she says, and lets him fix it.

"There," he says after a while, placing the comb back onto the dressing table before stepping back.

"Thanks!" she grins, standing up and doing a little twirl. "Well?" she asks, eyelashes fluttering girlishly, "Do I look queenly?"

"...In a sense..." he manages.

Liselotte laughs then, pulling him forward and onto the seat.

"What are you - " he starts as she brandishes the very same comb.

"Oh come on, we've got some time to kill before the party," she fails to explain, running the brush through his hair. It's impeccably-kept (but of course, she didn't expect anything less) and though her hair is somewhat softer (and better-smelling, she preens), it's still entirely pleasant to touch.

"Your hair is longer," he remarks, pulling her from a wistful reverie directed at the hairclips.

"It is," she murmurs, taking a couple short locks from the back.

"And it's softer."

"It is."

"And it's..." his gaze falters and he averts it entirely, "It's pink."

"It is," she repeats. "And it smells nicer too."

"So what's the point of this?" he asks, looking up. The teeth of the comb are scraping his scalp; he pays the sensation no heed.

"Because your hair is nice too," Liselotte explains, pressing her lips to his brow.

Even after two years, L-elf is still quick to flush, hesitant to accept contact, and just - that little bit _detached_.

"Sorry," she mumbles, feeling her own cheeks heat up. "You don't have to go." She retreats to the chaise and he stays there - with his head tilted towards the ceiling - for a while longer.

There's still some color on his cheeks when he turns to her again.

"I'm not that bad at dancing," he confesses, "I just - I just get distracted."

And they end up skipping the party after all.

* * *

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/05. those hairclips are tempting me


	6. the same strain of monster

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And Had I Made You Queen  
30themes featuring L11 (L-Elf) and Liselotte

Additional warnings: dubiously consensual smut, graphic violence

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* * *

When she takes the gun with steady hands and pulls the trigger no less than five times, you swear you see yourself in her eyes. Of the seven protestors, six lay silent at her feet and she pockets the gun.

The seventh begs for his life.

"Please, your highness," he starts, prostrating himself, "It was just a... just a joke. We didn't mean anything by it."

"A joke?" she echoes, and you blink, only just realizing that you can't remember what this was all about.

"Y-yes!" the helpless man cries, pitifully slobbering the floor beneath her feet. "Let me go, I swear you'll never hear from me again. I have a... I have a daughter. My wife died fighting the war and I'm the only person who - "

"What do you take me for?" she asks, getting up and walking over. She crouches down and takes his chin, smiling ever so sweetly. "Don't cry so, I'm not _that_ heartless."

"Your highness...!" the man gasps, pulling away from her touch to kiss the edge of her robe.

This is your princess, you have to remind yourself.

"Men," she addresses, stepping back and pulling the gun out yet again. The single protestor looks up, face paling in muted precognition, as she spells out his death. "Look up his address. Find his daughter. Send her to the orphanage."

"With pleasure, your majesty," your mouth instinctively responds.

The man howls in anguish and you cannot tear your eyes from the scene as she double-checks the number of bullets and, evidently finding a favorable amount, chooses to kill him slowly - indolently. First his right hand, then both his kneecaps, then his left shoulder, and finally his stomach. Although the man screams throughout the whole ordeal... in fact, he continues screaming even after she's finished and walked away, you're able to tune out his cries for mercy altogether.

This is your light, you cannot forget, when she dips in hands in thrice-blessed water and leaves the protestor to bleed to death.

"L-elf, come."

So she says and so you follow.

Again, you wonder where you went wrong, where she went wrong. At first, she had been a good ruler. Affronted by councilmen and citizens alike at times, yes, but genuinely sympathetic to the plight of her people. And hadn't you always believed that the primary concern of a government was the welfare of its citizens? Somewhere along the line, though, you've tainted her irrevocably. But because it is a crime no one can try you for, you must hold it against yourself all the more.

You can still remember the first time you saw her pull the trigger. It had been in the midst of a rally to boost spirits and she had done so to save a little boy. You remember your own shocked face, realizing that she had learned to shoot a gun - and shoot a gun quite well.

She had worn a strange smile at your bemused expression, you remember. It was an emotion that you didn't recognize then, but can now ascertain to be 'regret'.

Liselotte is smiling at you now, but it's not the same smile as then. And it's not a little girl's smile either: this one is all teeth. She tugs you into her bedroom and pushes you onto the bed and you let her rip the buttons off your uniform in her fervency. She bites your bottom lip and relishes the taste of your blood and you realize belatedly that this - that _she_ - is turning you on. She mumbles sweet nothings like a madman, scraping here and clawing there, and you do your best to keep still, only ever raising your hips to meet hers.

This is not the first time nor the last time, but it reassures you to know that that father's desperation had struck some sort of chord in her. Was she reminded of her own father, you wonder, and can she recall his face? And then she's ghosting the edges of her teeth over the curve of your shoulder and you let out a guttural moan.

She gets off from violence, this you know full well.

After a while, she grows tired of leading and motions for you to grab here, scratch there, bite here. There's a wave of murderous intent from her being and though it is striking, you've long grown used to its presence. She's hurt you beyond repair some nights, but you've forgiven those transgressions long, long ago.

You have kept count, because it's what you do, and she has killed less than you, because it's what she does. It's in her lidded eyes, her pale skin, her sharp fingers. Soon, you think, her number will surpass yours and even then, you will not regret it.

She finishes with a close-lipped smile; you an open-mouthed sigh.

When it's done and over and she's (mostly) spent, she tangles her bloody fingers in your hair and only then do you notice that she opened that old wound.

"You can overpower me any day of the week," she says, licking your wounds. You say nothing and she finishes up shortly, sitting up and straddling your waist. "So why do you let me do this?"

Because I was the one who made you like this.

Because you were my reason for fighting the war.

Because it makes you happy.

At one point, these were all truths. But now... with both the civil war and the galactic war behind the two of you and the deaths of everyone else between, you know it's not the case. While you may have been fighting for her freedom in the beginning, you got caught up in the bloodlust, the power trip. And there _was_ something addicting in squeezing another person's life between your fingers, in feeling their pulse quicken and then stop altogether.

Somewhere in the midst of killing 5,000 soldiers, you had lost yourself in the war.

"L-elf?" she asks, pulling close. Once you would've flushed at the distance; right now, the proximity lets you see _her_.

This is what the girl you once fought to liberate has become. This, you have long come to terms with.

"Because it's you," you end up saying, and she smiles like the broken-hearted girl you never knew her to be.

"And I, you," she replies.

And you think: this bed of broken bones and promises is more comfortable than it looks.

* * *

.

/06. the same strain of monster


	7. flight of the bumblebee

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And Had I Made You Queen  
30themes featuring L11 (L-Elf) and Liselotte

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* * *

So with my mother spirited away and my father deposed of and dead, you figure the universe would give me a lucky break or two, right? Not a chance, as I was instantly dropped into the Karlstein Agency, a death camp that masqueraded as a military school. Between fighting for my life, trying to curb my temper amongst those filthy commoners, and maintaining my fabulous hair, I figured I would just make friends with the other people who survived.

Surprise, surprise, it turned out they were all assholes who got their kicks off of war.

Except for this one guy that, thinking back, my little sister introduced me to. He was actually clear-headed... though it was to the point of creepy and autistic, at least he was capable of _functioning_ outside of "kill X to survive through Y". My first couple attempts to recruit him were rebuffed, but I persevered. Well, technically, we both persevered, with him graduating at the top of the class. Once he took down that battalion of five thousand men though, I realized: this was who the universe had sent to be my right hand man.

Unfortunately, I didn't have much of a cause outside of "that's my rightful throne and I would make a much better ruler than the current Kaiser" two points which, while true, were not terribly convincing.

So of course the universe would have my right hand man shoot out my right eye.

And even after I had the grace and dignity to forgive him for taking it out, he defected to side with the Module 77 rebels, not even batting an eye when we inevitably met on the field for combat. I was then told by the only kid my age who had a higher rank then me that he wouldn't be my right-hand man anymore because he had found a right-hand man for himself. Oh, the insolence! And _then_ he had the nerve to win that fight.

To add insult to injury, the grand council (usurpers, the lot of them) recalled Cain for a trial and, being his direct subordinate, I was dragged back to the capital too.

And this was how I returned to my little sister: missing one eye. Naturally, she screamed and threw a fit and demanded to know who had taken it out. While I don't doubt she would've marched off to set things straight herself (that stupidly precocious girl...), I didn't want to deal with explaining how her adopted orphan was the culprit, much less explain his still-going rebellion.

Actually, let me think how I would phrase that. _Hey Liselotte, long time no see! Notice anything different about your big brother? Yeah, I lost an eye. Yeah, that boy you rescued seven years ago did it. Oh, and did I mention that he went a little crazy and turned on all of Dorssia while supporting a nation founded and maintained by children? So what's up with you? Still locked in that tower?_ ...Yeah. Not happening.

Unfortunately, my sister is as pragmatic as she is stubborn, and Cain, that scheming throne-stealing bastard, just can't miss an opportunity to inflict more grief. With his help (and probably the help of my remaining dickhead friends... Q-vier, I'm looking at you), I was knocked out and placed in a temporary stasis while my little sister gave me her left eye. Well, forced it upon me, as no sibling worth his salt would've willingly took it, but you get the picture.

Needless to say, once the situation was explained to me (by a giddy H-neun no less), I was more than ready to throttle Cain. But apparently the rebel forces were planning a treaty with ARUS so we hustled out of the capital before the trial (oh the beauty of beaucracy!). I didn't even get the chance to give Liselotte a firm reprimand. Or thank her. One or the other. In retrospect, it was probably for the best that we didn't meet up as she would've surely asked (as she's done for a freakin' decade) about her precious little orphan and I wasn't in the mood for especially outlandish lies.

Anyways, the wholehearted throttling that I had mentally sworn to give Cain needed to be set aside for the moment because first: we encountered Module 77 and their fighters/Valvraves faster than expected and second: although the eye took some getting used to, I must admit that it worked like a charm. We weren't relatives for nothing, it seemed.

The battle was proceeding par for the course for a while. Q-vier was eager for first blood, H-neun was paying more attention to the green Valvrave's pilot, and X-eins was hanging on to Cain's every word. On the other side, L-elf no doubt commanded the forces. He knew us but Cain knew him. So the plan was to throw a feint and allow the rebel forces to board the mothership, assuming L-elf would be leading the advance. Cain would take him out and we'd capture the psychologically struck rebel forces then.

Everything was going according to plan, up until the point where I greeted L-elf on the bridge.

I must point out that when I reported L-elf's activities to Cain, our commander was absolutely certain that either ARUS or the inhabitants of Module 77 had somehow brainwashed him. While it was difficult to believe someone of L-elf's caliber being swayed so easily - drugs or no - I was inclining towards that theory. It would certainly make him easier to pardon and perhaps I could have my ideal right-hand man after all.

Except then he saw me and went batshit insane.

I've never seen _anyone_ quite so furious. He froze for a fraction of a second as I lifted my hand in mock-greeting and was greeted in-return by a series of swift punches. As I was kind of occupied with defending myself, I couldn't quite make out his screams, but they were definitely there. Probably curses.

He demanded to know what I had done with her, what on earth possessed me to take her eye, and while it was tempting to defend myself, it was more important to put this traitorous orphan street scum in his place. It was one thing for my sister to have her childish fancies; it was a whole other thing for him to be lusting after her. Evidently, he took offense to this... though it was more the accusation of him doing uncouth things (admittedly a poor insult to make) and I made it out of there with no less than ten new bruises. He was purposely aiming away from my face though - that sentimental orphan boy - and right as I was about to disarm him, Cain intervened.

He didn't even raise a hand or anything... just said that my sister had 'fulfilled her purpose' and L-elf passed out. Just like that.

I distinctively remember thinking: _Holy shit, you cannot be serious, this is the guy I wanted as a right-hand man?_ and then Cain - the second most powerful guy in Dorssia - made some theatrical speech about the power of love triumphing over friendship.

Now, keep in mind that I wasn't _blind_ to their... weird little friendship, whatever they called it. But I figured it didn't extend further than admiration. I had thought Cain was bluffing when he said Liselotte was L-elf's reason for fighting but now, well, after _that_ scene?

Anyways, with L-elf out of the conflict, the Valvraves were laughably easy to take down. This seemed to be part of Cain's Master Plan too though, because as soon as we secured three pilots and their craft, he ordered all three - along with us Karlstein graduates - to be shipped back to the capital. Being treated like a sack of potatoes didn't bode well for anyone, least of all Q-vier who ended up whining the whole way through. I swear, I was this close to snapping into a stasis to escape the neverending whining. Or snapping him into one, come to think of it.

We took turns guarding L-elf, though it was doubly pointless. First, Cain alone (and unfortunately, only Cain) was enough to prevent his escape, and second, he made no move to escape. It was pitiful, actually. H-neun and X-eins tried talking to him and Q-vier tried to bait him. He didn't so much as look at them, just continued staring at the ceiling. When it was my turn, he finally started talking, except it was just questions, questions, _questions_. All about my little sister, of course.

Cain had specifically instructed that we keep up the façade and for whatever horrifically romantic reason, it worked. L-elf was quiet... almost docile. He refused to eat at first, and I told him he might as well be in good condition to see the body. He shot me a nasty glare then and I saw a flicker of his old self, but then he actually started eating the porridge. And I was about ready to ask for a nutrient injection to boot!

The One Man Army spent his time on this ship either sleeping or crying. I swear, it was the most pathetic thing I've ever seen. This was the guy who beat me in every test possible (outside of basic defense with which he was just... yeah... hopelessly bad), who had evidently defected to the enemy side without any provocation or brainwashing, and who had shot out my goddamn eye. And here he was, sitting in a pitiful little puddle of his own tears because my sister had rammed her eye into my empty socket by conspiring with the bastard who had locked her in the tower in the first place. And I was supposed to sympathize with him?

I swear, the universe just hates me.

And then we were greeted with a heroes welcome for successfully capturing the Valvraves and their pilots. L-elf was taken away for further questioning. I don't remember what he looked like when Liselotte picked him up off the streets, but I'm pretty sure he wasn't _that_ sad. There were a couple state dinners and other mandatory functions for the triumphant soldiers, and I paid my sister a visit in the meanwhile.

Cain hadn't given any instructions on how to explain the situation to her, so I just went with vague answers once she inevitably started asking about her dear L-elf. To be fair, I doubt she'd be happy hearing the truth. _Oh, the orphan you rescued? Well he's lost more than a couple screws after seeing what you did with your eye and now he's probably doing to die of dehydration from crying too fucking much._ ...Yeah, that wasn't happening either.

Still, being the chivalrous older brother I was, I insisted that she take her eye back and she insisted just as strongly that she had no use for it. The artificial eye looked quite nice, to be fair. Much more aesthetic than mine. But then, she _was_ still a princess.

After that, the universe flipped on its side. Now I know what you're thinking, but no. We received a transmission from Cain saying that he had activated the older model of Valvraves and proceeded to successfully harness their powers and that he was going on to conquer the whole universe and that Dorssia was a tiny speck on the map and he had no use for us any longer. You can imagine we all just stared in shock at this declaration, especially as the Kaiser was apparently conspiring with him.

Good going universe, I remember angrily thinking as the transmission ended and Cain gave an airy 'ta-ta'. The nobles swarmed around me. I was the last surviving son of the old Tsar. There were three factions: one wanted to rule through me, one wanted my death, and one wanted to wage war against Cain and his upgraded Valvraves. Needless to say, I didn't think I was going to make it out of the councilroom alive.

And then my little sister burst in with her nameless orphan boy in-tow.

I have no idea how she managed to get out of the tower, much less gain access to his holding cell. I have no idea what their reunion was like. And though his eyes were still red around the edges, he had a gun in each hand and _effortlessly_ plowed through the soldiers and nobles in seconds. Liselotte hugged me, professed some sort of relieved sentiment, and although L-elf shot me another catty glare, it was obvious everything was on the road to being forgiven.

Yeah, there were riots. Yeah, there was one attempted revolution. And yeah, there are still problems. But like I said: it was my rightful throne and I would certainly be a better ruler than the Kaiser. I learned the rules of the court and then went about changing them. I learned that commoners are people too and that they too have good points. I learned that Q-vier can actually exist without killing, that H-neun was a surprisingly devoted father, and that X-eins was more booksmart than we gave him credit for.

Cain went on to conquer the rest of the universe and we didn't hear from him again. Evidently the universe is larger than we first thought.

I eventually managed to convince my sister to take back her eye - in time for her wedding, thank goodness - and L-elf resigned himself to be my right hand man, ha-hah! And so that was how I managed to have my cake and eat it too. It was delicious, mind you, and worth every crumb, the rest of the universe be damned.

* * *

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/07. flight of the bumblebee


	8. is justified belief knowledge?

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And Had I Made You Queen  
30themes featuring L11 (L-Elf) and Liselotte

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* * *

Although she is the crown princess of the federation, she has barely enough power to pardon the boy.

Grudgingly, the guards let her bring him back to the palace. The new kaiser however, tells her that she cannot keep him. She feels the boy's cold clammy fingers wrench about her sleeve and her stomach flip-flops.

"Don't worry," she insists, pulling the silk from his fingers, "I won't send you away."

But she knows no one and the coup has left her no options. No options but...

"An orphan boy?" the tall blond-haired man who sat by her father's side asks, swiveling to face her. Liselotte does her best to look pliant.

"And you want me to shelter him?"

She nods.

"What happened to his parents?"

"They... they were killed."

"By the soldiers? How did he escape?" his interest is piqued and with it, her hopes.

"He ran away and hid outside the palace gates."

"And where is he now?"

"In the palace." She pauses, uncertain of how much to reveal. "The Kaiser... the Kaiser won't let me keep him."

"I see." The general pushes out his chair, standing up. "Well, I trained those soldiers myself and if I remember the location of the execution teams correctly, it would have taken... ah, my apologies princess." He clears his throat, leading her down the hallway and towards the administrative building, "Anyways, as the boy was able to survive under such conditions, I'd be willing to enroll him in the new school."

"A new school?" She is vaguely aware of the concept, though her education has always been through tutors.

"Mm."

"What kind of school is it?"

"A military one."

At his answer, Liselotte's breath catches. The military had always been a safe place and Dorssia's military academies were so good that even citizens of ARUS enrolled their children once in a while.

"Thank you - thank you so much," she professes, stooping to a full bow.

"Don't thank me yet," he casually replies, gliding through the palace security with practiced ease. "Let's first have a look at... ah, is this him?"

The silver-haired boy is sitting at the foot of her bed. At least the maids had the sense to clean and dress him. He looks up at their entrance, eyes wide and fearful, and Liselotte hurries over to him.

"Who is he? What's he going to do? Am I going to be killed?"

"No, no," she responds, shaking her head. "You can trust General Cain. He's one of the best fighters in Dorssia."

She follows his gaze to meet that the federation's youngest general. _Well?_ she asks, an implicit plea.

"He has good eyes," Cain notes. He gives the spacious room a sweeping glance, before fixing his gaze on the boy. "How many meters are you from the nearest exit?"

"General," she pales, "You can't - "

"One and a half."

Two sets of eyes with wildly different intentions focus on him then.

"And could you survive the fall?" Cain prompts.

"As we are only three-point-seven meters up and there is a good thirty centimeters of snow covering the ground, yes."

"How many guards would you be able to take out?"

"As I am right now?"

"Armed with the shards of glass, of course."

This steady volley of question-and-answer continues for a while longer, with Cain setting up more and more ridiculously hypothetical situations and the boy answering them all. Liselotte glances from one to the other, and back again, completely lost. Finally, Cain purses his lips and nods ever so slightly.

Her heart soars.

"Boy, how old are you?"

"Ten."

"Very good." He nods again, turning to the princess once more. "Yes, I will be happy to induct him into my new academy."

"Really?!" she claps her hands together, facing the boy, "Did you hear that?"

"What does it mean?" the boy cautiously asks, eyes forever flitting.

"It means you'll be safe!" Liselotte exclaims, right as Cain says:

"You'll be promised security so long as you help keep Dorssia secure."

The boy's upper lip curls into a nasty snarl.

"So you want me to be a military dog?"

"Wait a - !"

"As it looks, your only other option is to follow your parents."

His nostrils flare and Cain's lips curl further and -

"_General_!" Liselotte addresses, welling up the whole of her royal breeding, "Would you please excuse us for a moment? I know he's..."

She falters, and the general is enough of a gentleman to pick up. "Tired. Of course, princess."

And then he adds: "_When_ you end up agreeing, I will be meet you outside," before closing the door.

Liselotte bites her bottom lip, the reality of the situation ultimately dawning upon her. Now she's used up all her chances: the rabbit, the guards, and even the general. There's no chance of her making it outside, much less avenging her parents. And all that's left of her opportunity is this thankless orphan boy.

She takes out her hairpin, observing its curiously sharp ends.

"What are you - " the boy begins, before he lunges forward, knocking her to the ground and knocking the pin out of her hand. "What were you trying to do?! Don't you know that's dangerous?!"

Liselotte stares at him, but doesn't quite see him. _A woman's hair is her life,_ she remembers her mother saying. Well, she had just chopped off half her life. Her breaths grow choppy and short from the alien weight resting on her chest and her vision blurs.

"Wh-what?" the boy flusters, quickly removing himself. "Why are _you_ crying?"

It's his unabashedly indignant tone that pushes her over the edge and she flies at him, weakly-curled fists uselessly flailing. In the course of fifteen poorly-worded sentences and countless pants and gasps, she pours out the story of the coup to him: how Amadeus had betrayed her parents, how her mother had tried to smuggle her out of the country, how she had been forced to attend their execution, how Amadeus had styled himself as her father... and so on and so forth.

And through it all, the boy listens. Listens to her shameless howls for _mother_ and her hopeless plan of escape and her stupid dreams to travel the world.

After she's finished, but before she's caught her breath, he gently pushes her away.

"I'll go," he says, moving towards the bay window.

Her eyes widen.

"You... you gave me half your life. So I'll try."

Because they're them and because they're children, this sort of logic makes sense.

"Wait!" she calls, drying her tears and hurrying over as he lifted a vase over his head. "Will you... will you come back and tell me your stories?"

"...My stories?"

"Of your adventures in the outside world!"

He looks at her oddly then, lips moving to say something or another. She doesn't give him the opportunity though as she throws both arms around him in a tight hug.

"Ah - wait - hey - !"

He hurls the vase out the window then, pushing her back with his free hand.

"Wait, I - " Liselotte tries, even as the alarm goes off.

"We'll meet again," the boy promises, and then he launches himself out too.

"I'll wait forever!" she screams. And through the shards, she thinks she sees Cain meet up with the boy.

* * *

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/08. is justified belief knowledge?


	9. just keep pulling the trigger

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And Had I Made You Queen  
30themes featuring L11 (L-Elf) and Liselotte

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* * *

It's too late and still, L-elf sprints into the throne room.

All the councilors and noblemen have fled, and those that haven't have been gunned down. He doesn't give two shits about them.

"Liselotte!" he screams, overturning one corpse after another. No luck.

"Liselotte!" he tries again. This time, there's a gasp behind the throne. He dashes over only to find the Dorssian princess bleeding heavily.

"Shit," he drops the gun and starts ripping at Sakimori uniform. Her eyes flutter open and it takes a while for her to really see him.

"You came again," she murmurs, leaning towards him.

"And you gave me half your life again," he replies. There's a short pause as she coughs up blood.

"It wasn't Cain or Amadeus this time though," Liselotte admits, fingers curling.

L-elf's fingers fumble as his blood runs cold.

"Then who - ?"

"I saw," - she pauses to cough again - "There was... they were... you had friends this time."

"They weren't enough," he insists, efforts redoubling.

"Nothing is, is it?" she attempts a laugh.

"Let me try again," he pleads, giving up on the bandages altogether. "I've gotten much better. This time... this time..."

_This time I'll save you._

Liselotte actually does laugh this time, and the chime-like sound does nothing for the crease in his brow.

"Much better at killing people, you mean?"

He holds her heartbeat between his fingers and keeps quiet.

"And how many people did they say you killed in that same New Guinea fight?" she blearily asks, smiling weakly, "Two thousand? Three thousand?"

L-elf says nothing.

"I'm happy that you came to see me again," she adds, bringing a hand to his cheek, "But aren't you tired of this? Living the same timeline over and over?"

"Give me another chance," he repeats, moving his own bloodied hands to squeeze at hers.

There's an even weaker laugh, barely a chuckle, but she appeases him nonetheless, pulling herself up and sinking her teeth into the nape of his neck.

"I'll win," he promises, closing his eyes as time itself folded over the two of them, "This time - I'll win, Liselotte."

.

The problem with his last attempt, he realizes, waking up as a ten-year-old boy in the middle of a snowfield for the fifteenth time, was that he was unnecessarily hasty.

And, in that unnecessary haste, he let himself get attached.

This time. This time, it'll be different.

.

"I wish we lived in a world where there wasn't stuff like winning and losing."

Although it makes his blood boil, he maintains his temper.

"Is something the matter?" A-drei asks, raising an eyebrow at the captain's clearly poor temper. His comment is ignored.

"I'm in," X-eins says and L-elf forces a grim smile.

_Liselotte,_ he thinks, fingers curling around the gun, _I'll be winning this time._

.

Instead of pausing to admire the machinery, he maneuvers through the elevator doors and kills the single remaining technician, preventing the man from releasing the Valvrave.

With the help of the other Karlstein graduates, they manage to load the Valvrave 01 onto the waiting spacecraft.

But then, there was the matter of the other Valvraves. Did Cain already know at this point? Would it matter? Thinking back, the (re)discovery of Blue had never helped matters, to say nothing of his overaffectionate sibling.

"What's wrong with you?" A-drei demands, about to shake his shoulder. L-elf sidesteps away at the last second.

"Nothing," he snorts, climbing into the Waffe.

.

In this reality, he's only had contact with the Blue Pilot and his woman... and Haruto and Shoko. Those these aren't the same people. No, the pair of bumbling optimists he met were already dead.

"X-eins, stop." he addresses, motioning to the quickly-disappearing module.

"What? What for?"

In the second of hesitation, he kicks Q-vier out of the weapon's seat and seizes the controls himself. Before anyone else can react, he fires four shots at the module center, and then unloads the rest of their firepower on its reinforced framework.

True to theory, the whole module goes up in flames.

"Holy shit, you just... you just blew up a whole module!"

"Hey, no fair!"

"What was that for?! Are you out of your mind?!" A-drei shouts, pulling him out of the seat and giving him a good shake.

"Maybe," L-elf laughs.

"Commander Cain will definitely have a talk with you," X-eins sniffs, regaining control and directing them back to the mothership.

"It's my win, Liselotte," L-elf mouths instead.

And this time, he's right.

* * *

.

/09. just keep pulling the trigger


	10. for the sake of adventure

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And Had I Made You Queen  
30themes featuring L11 (L-Elf) and Liselotte

Besides canon, canon speculation, alternate realities/timelines, there's also legitimate alternative universes. Like so.

.

* * *

"Why do _I_ have to be the horse?" Haruto whines.

"Horses can't talk," L-elf bites back.

"Okay, fine." He tries to think of an animal that can. "Why do _I_ have to be the pack parrot?"

"There's no such thing."

"And parrots don't actually know what they're saying!" Shoko helpfully supplies.

"Well there's one similarity then," L-elf drawls.

"Yeah... wait... hey!"

"Don't tip the cart, idiot!"

"Then help me... urgh!" A noticeable weight is lifted from his shoulders, allowing him to look up for the first time in _hours_. "Thank you Saki! Now if you could just..." he makes a chivalrous attempt to scuttle out from the harness.

"Not a chance," Saki crisply replies, grabbing his collar. "I just thought you might like a breather."

"Aren't you ashamed of yourself Haruto?" Shoko facepalms, "Asking a girl to pull the cart for you?"

"But it's so heavy!" he whines. "And you guys are all stronger than me!"

"Is something the matter?" Liselotte asks, poking her head out of the screen door.

"Nope! Nothing!" Shoko grins, elbowing Haruto. Haruto, of course, can't take a hint.

"Yeah, actually," he starts, even as Saki grinds her heel into his toe, "Do you think you could lighten the cart a bit?"

L-elf's eye twitches.

"You mean..." Liselotte tilts her head, "I should lose weight?"

"What? No, I... I just...!" he cowers under the deathglares of Saki and Shoko. Still, he makes an effort: "You're not heavy at all! It's just all the treasures you're bringing back!"

"But... my brother asked for enough gold to pave the ballroom."

Haruto blanches.

"Er... I... well..." Liselotte's eyes water a bit and he feels a _third_ murderous aura behind him. And then he hangs his head: "Nevermind. My apologies."

"Yay!" the princess beams, clapping her hands. "Well, now that that's settled, please wake me up when we reach the next stop." And then she promptly closes the screen, no doubt going back to sleep.

"Don't act so surprised," Saki advises, helping him steady the cart. "Royalty is the same everywhere, after all."

"I still don't get why - " he pauses to take the first shuddering step, unlocking the wheels, "Out of the four of us, _I'm_ the one who has to drag the cart!"

"Because you're the weakest," is the chorused reply.

"I told you I'd make this journey worth your while," L-elf adds.

"No you said that you'd kill us if we didn't listen!" Haruto retorts.

"Easy, easy," Shoko chuckles. "Actually, this is a pretty safe region. I can switch with you for a bit."

"Really?!" Haruto's eyes sparkle.

"Sure! It'll be good exercise!" She shrugs off her katana and passes it over. "Don't drop it!"

"I'll be holding onto that," Saki intervenes, plucking the blade from the boy's fingers and tucking it in her own shoulderpack.

"Hurry it up will you?" L-elf calls from fifty meters ahead, "This checkpoint closes before sunset."

"Yes, yes!" Shoko agrees, picking up the pace.

"What's with you guys?" Haruto grumbles, stretching his arms. "And that guy too... acting like we're kids even when I _know_ we're the same age."

"He's probably anxious for the princess' safety," Saki rightfully guesses.

"Why? Isn't he just a soldier? ...Oh, is he part of her brother's personal guard?"

"Maybe," Saki shrugs, speeding up as well, "And then, maybe not."

"What does that... hey! Wait up!" He needs to jog a bit to catch up with the other four. Saki raises an eyebrow.

"You know, for all your complaining, you never made any effort to run away." She looks at him and then leers. "Oh, I see," she says.

"No you don't," Haruto hotly denies, "I just - look, I said I would help out so I am, okay? L-elf! Shoko!" he raises his voice and points in a slightly different direction, "You guys are going the wrong way! The checkpoint is _that_ way! Geez, no one has any sense of direction..."

There's the creak of wheels on unpaved road as Shoko readjusts the direction. Haruto stares for a second too long.

"No," Saki says, smiling wide, "I think I _do_ see."

He flushes and splutters out a string of incoherent denials, finishing with: "Do you think they're... like... you know?"

Saki stops walking to stare at him. Haruto stops too and flushes deeper.

"Wh-what?"

"You're an idiot," she concludes, smacking the upside of his head and adding: "Tell her at the end of this journey and I'm sure she'll say yes."

"Really?"

"_What_ really?" Shoko calls, waving to them, "Hurry up, will you? L-elf says he can see the checkpoint!"

They end up reaching the checkpoint gates at sundown. And then L-elf employs his special method of persuasion and the guards part like sheep. Shoko cheers and Haruto scowls and Saki observes. Like usual, Shoko and Haruto amble off looking for sustenance, and Saki goes searching for firewood.

"Princess," L-elf calls, gently rapping on the screen, "We've reached the next stop."

"Really?!" the screen door flies open and she practically skips out of the cart, "Wow! That was fast! Are we closer to to the harbor now?"

"Much closer," her guard stiffly replies.

"Are there any souvenirs? Can I wear my kimono? Are we having another early start? What's for dinner?"

"No, yes, yes, and whatever those idiots can catch," he smoothly replies, ducking into the cart to pull out said kimono.

Liselotte pauses for a while, matching up the answers with their questions, "Ah, okay!" she grins and takes the silk garment, swishing back into the cart and sliding back the door.

L-elf keeps guard outside.

Surprisingly enough, Saki is the first to return, dumping the pile of firewood before the cart.

"Where's the princess?" she asks, getting to work making a firepit.

"Getting dressed," L-elf responds. He kneels down and begins to help.

"Well that was quick," Saki remarks. And then she learns that L-elf can turn red just as quickly as Haruto. She laughs, batting the air with a dirt-smudged hand. "Not like that, not like that. I meant... well... she's quite young, isn't she?"

"...No. What _do_ you mean?"

His hand inches to the holster of the gun and she laughs internally, realizing that he _would_ shoot her for such a transgression.

Saki shakes her head, passing him two of the thicker sticks. She's never been quick at making fire.

"It's cruel not to tell her," she murmurs as the merry crunch of foliage signals the return of Shoko and Haruto. "It's her dowry, isn't it?"

L-elf doesn't look up, concentrating on the two pieces of wood.

Then he says in a voice so quiet she thinks she might've imagined it: "She knows."

And the fire ignites.

* * *

.

/10. for the sake of adventure


End file.
